Ice
by Mei Syndrome
Summary: Series of Russia/Lithuania one-shots and drabbles, fluff mostly. Updated: Chapter Three - Submit
1. Ice

If it's one thing that Toris still hasn't picked up from so many years of Ivan's oppressive rule. . .It was ice-skating. The brunette couldn't understand it - it just seemed like he didn't have the actual skills in balancing on ice. Which was weird - because normally he did have a good sense of balance. And he fell. A lot. Whenever he was somehow coaxed out onto the ice by Ivan, by the end of it, he was wet, freezing, and still had ice stuck to his pants, arms and back.

But it wasn't so bad when Ivan would hold onto him, and attempt to show him how to skate. Because those were the times when Ivan wasn't cruel, when he was sweet and almost , well. . .Ivan wasn't drunk when he went ice-skating either, which was good.

And right now, with Ivan holding onto his waist, and gently pushing him from behind, Toris was shocked to find that he was actually. . .well, enjoying this. For such a tall man, clothed in bulky clothes, Ivan was surprisingly graceful when he was on ice, and sweet and patient in his attempts to explain to Toris that no - taking baby steps on ice didn't actually count as ice-skating.

And Ivan's hands were _warm_, and the realization made Toris stumble, and collide against Ivan's chest, and the Russian steadied him, held him there for a few seconds too long before Toris, out of instinct, pushed him away and immediately fell onto the ice. And Ivan was there immediately, hand proffered to Toris to help him up, and he took it.


	2. Flowers

Toris watches as Ivan comes in, a bundle of sunflowers in his arms. The Russian is smiling - an honest smile, which is a surprise. He is even more surprised, though, that the sunflowers are alive and look vibrant. "Where did you get those?" He asks, curiously.

"Hm? A child gave them to me," he says, hands them to Toris and shrugs off his suit jacket. His tie flops forward slightly, and the white shirt underneath looks somewhat wrinkled, as if he slept in it overnight.

"A child?"

"Putin."

"Oh."

The whole country was grateful for having Putin as a President - while the rest of the world may cry that he is a demon who strips away their freedoms and their rights, but the Russian people say that no - he has brought stability to their country, and they love him for that. They love Russia, now.

"Do you regret him being President?"

Ivan looks thoughtful, violet eyes darkening slightly as he thinks, then shakes his head, and slips out of his Italian shoes. "No. He is. . .He will be good for the country." Toris nods.

"I see."

"Would you like one?" Toris looks up sharply when Ivan offers, and after a moment of hesitation, nods. An actual show of love from the Russian man?

"Yes."

Ivan walks forward, places his hands on Toris' hips - since the fall, he has warmed, if only slightly - and presses a kiss to his forehead, his cheeks, then finally his mouth, and it is soft and warm and unlike Ivan.

"Keep them all," Ivan murmurs.

Perhaps Putin will help after all.


	3. Submit

_Not as fluffy as the others. Aah, sorry. Haha._

--

He always submits himself to the overpowering smell and taste of vodka. He can understand why he drinks so much of the alcohol - even the slight taste of it on his lips is enough to send a dizzying wave of heat rush through his body.

Clinging to the large coat, he arches and gives a small moan when hands run through his hair, and then grip it harshly, and then his mouth is on his again. There it is again - the bigger taste of alcohol, and he knows that now is his chance - he can kill him right here, right now, have his freedom and return back to the blonde. . .

Ivan pulls back, and still, Toris is clutching at him, wanting the burn of alcohol and the cold of his hands and lips. But instead, Toris stares at Ivan - the oddly childish face, the wide violet eyes, and strange enough, he finds his heart breaking for the man who has seen so much blood and murder. . .

"I should kill you. I can kill you," he whispers.

Ivan smiles, and traces a freezing finger across Toris' throat.

"This is where I would carve your second smile."

Toris shudders at the thinly-veiled violence, anticipating the promise, and pulls the other man down for another kiss.


End file.
